Growl
by idreamedofstardust
Summary: It's Fellowship member Francine's first time guarding a vampire. She doesn't do a very good job. Or, alternatively, a different take on why Godric allowed the Fellowship to take him.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"What is your name?"

Francine tightened her hold around the handle of the gun. She didn't yet raise it, refusing to appear intimidated.

"Shut up."

Mentally, she applauded the strength in which her command came out. As powerful as holding a gun made her feel, she was smart enough to know it'd be useless against a vampire like the one she was guarding. Useless if she didn't use it right.

 _Two thousand years old, Laurie said. Could be messin' with me._

The dark haired vampire had yet to turn around and face her.

From the moment she padded down the basement steps, pulse throbbing like a jackhammer, he- _the vampire_ \- had been oddly silent. As convenient as the passive behavior was, Francine couldn't find it in her to fully relax around him.

She had heard the story. The vampire gave himself up willingly to the Fellowship. In the month that he'd been kept to the basement, there hadn't been a single violent incident. He didn't bite, he didn't fight, and he barely touched the Tru Bloods Gabe dropped off for him.

Steve Newlin considered him a gift from the Lord himself. A docile vampire who seemed to welcome death, so powerful was his contempt for life.

Francine found it difficult to adopt the same relaxation as the other Fellowship members. Did it not concern any of them how willingly the vampire gave himself up? Did none of them consider the fact that he may be biding his time? That he had an alternative agenda?

Hell, he very well may be a Trojan Horse. If that was the case-

Inhaling sharply through her nostrils, Francine raised her gun for the first time.

 _Newlin will be sore if I take care of him prematurely._

Her finger stroked the finger softly.

 _He ain't even watching. Just a quick little shot to the back of the head, like Uncle Cal taught me with the rabbits._

She kept her bottom lip trapped between her teeth; tense and focused.

 _For Laurie. For Joanna._

"Have I done something to upset you?"

Francine's eyebrows scrunched together. She hadn't expected him to sound...

"Something funny there, mister?" she snapped, taking a large step forward. "Cos I reckon I'm the one with the gun and if you start causing a fuss, we'll go find ourselves another bloodsucker."

Through the white tunic he wore, the vampire's shoulders lifted. Francine couldn't make out his temperament. While she had wanted to appear threatening, she also wanted to live until her twentieth birthday.

 _Should I just shoot him and get it over with? Newlin will understand._

"Why do I cause you such discomfort?"

She didn't acknowledge it, but the fact that he could pick out her emotional state without a glance, unnerved her.

"You really think I buy that you're some domestic little vampire, all fine and dandy with lettin' a vampire hate group roast him? I ain't that dumb. You're up to something. The moment I get wind of what it is, you'll be gettin' your wish to die."

Once more, the vampire's shoulders rose.

"That," he said softly, "is-

Her index finger, smeared with sweat, slipped. She pivoted backwards, hands shaking, ear drums temporarily shattering. The bullet sailed forward, striking the vampire on the back of his shoulder. Other than a gruff groan, the vampire barely acknowledged the bullet's existence, or the new wound blooming through the back of his shirt.

"Holy crap," she murmured, fingers unfurling.

The vampire didn't respond.

Francine's anxiety skyrocketed. She hadn't meant to shoot and now that the bullet was out, she fought the temptation to keep pulling the trigger. She couldn't imagine a vampire enjoyed getting shot.

"You surprised me."

Her grip tightened on the gun. She gulped down the worry lodged in the back of her throat.

"How's that?"

His shoulders briefly rose before falling.

"When I had told my progeny about you, he was convinced you would shoot me the moment you were armed."

The vampire turned to her, a smile balancing on his lips. "He will be pleased to learn he was correct."

"When you told who about me?" she demanded, aiming the weapon at his head.

He breathed in calmly, not appearing the slightest bit upset over the bullet in his shoulder.

"Eric," the vampire said. "He is my progeny and confidant."

"He gonna make an appearance here too?"

"I've advised against it, but Eric is not known for his patience." The vampire worked on keeping his expression neutral, gaze entangled with her own. "He will keep away out of respect for me."

"Why are you here?"

She decided to be blunt about it. In the time he took to speak, her eyes had been doing a minute-by-minute analysis.

The vampire was smart. She didn't need to listen to him speak long, flowery sentences. It was in the way he strung his sentences together. She'd never been ashamed of her southern Kentucky accent, but it was difficult not to feel inadequate around him. He spoke with confidence and composure. All with a bullet in his shoulder!

She also came to the uneasy conclusion that he knew her somehow. Why else would she be a topic of conversation between vampires?

"I fear I can no longer afford to hold off an introduction. It is important to me that you are aware of my existence."

Francine's insides twisted. Thus far, the vampire had not given her a reason to kill him, other than his nature. Now, she almost prayed he did. The direction of this conversation didn't sit well with her.

 _Laurie said they're all killers._

"My name is Godric," he said. "And you are Francine Moxley."

"Why'd you even bother askin' my name then?"

Godric's smile was brief. His eyes, previously attached to her face, fell to the floor.

"I hoped it would put you at ease."

"Yeah, bloodthirsty serial killers _always_ put me at ease."

"Is that how you view me?"

"Your kind's never given me a reason to think differently."

She expected hostility or a defensive remark, but Godric merely nodded.

"No," he agreed, "we have not. I accept this."

"Whether you accept it or not don't make it any less true."

Godric stepped forward. She didn't miss the way he watched her. Trouble was- she couldn't place the look on his face. Although his expression remained unbothered, she got the feeling he was analyzing her just as hard as she was analyzing him.

"I passed you on the street a month and a half ago. You were distracted."

Without meaning to, she tensed up.

 _He's been huntin' me._

Before she could pull back her finger, he held up a hand.

"Please, hear this and afterward, you may make your judgment."

"Yeah, okay," Francine mocked, rolling her eyes. "Like you ain't gonna kill me the moment-."

"-I have had _numerous_ chances to kill you," Godric interrupted, tone sterner than she'd ever heard it. "That I have continuously showed you mercy...is that not a reflection of my character?"

Surprising herself, Francine bit down on her tongue. Usually, she'd respond with the first insult that entered her head. And boy howdy, there was definitely a part of her that wanted to insult him. A bigger part, however, gravitated toward his last remark.

She mulled it over for a moment.

"That-." Francine paused, clearing her throat. "That you have to practice mercy unto others...that mercy doesn't come naturally to ya...that's a reflection of your character."

She had never witnessed someone's expression crumble so quickly. He recovered, of course. There was a tame, domestic expression he always seemed to come back to, as if to calm down and regroup.

 _I force him to keep composure. There is no way he's lettin' me leave this basement alive._

"You were listening to music with your head down."

If she thought about it hard enough, Francine could almost recall the evening he was referring to.

"I didn't do anythin' special to warrant you to hunt me."

"I am not here to hunt you." Now, he sounded mildly frustrated.

Despite the danger of baiting a vampire, Francine quite liked the fact that she could get under the skin of this ancient bloodsucker.

"Your shoulder brushed mine."

His eyes lingered on hers.

"So, what? You want an apology? Sorry for runnin' into ya! I get antisocial when I put my headphones in."

"You honestly believe I sought you out in search of an apology?"

Shrugging, Francine frowned. "Why the heck else would you be here?"

Godric closed his eyes and lowered his head. A long, drawn out breath entered and exited his chest.

"I ain't got all night, mister."

She didn't have to make that comment, and in retrospect, it wasn't the smartest timing. But, there was something about prodding the boundary of this vampire's self control...Francine found it fascinating. Not the bloodsucker himself, but rather, how violently he fought his nature.

It was impossible, of course. No vampire could resist feeding or killing. This vampire may come equipped with some manners, but she doubted they stuck around when he got hungry.

 _It's only a matter of time before he turns on me._

The weight of the gun grew heavier in her hands.

 _I could do it while he's talkin'. Doubt he'd expect it._

"Would you believe me if I told you I have no desire to harm you?"

Francine cocked her head to the side. "Nop- _e_." She made sure to draw out the word.

Godric held back a grimace.

"Now," she continued, readjusting her stance, "you got ten seconds to tell me why the hell you tracked me down."

"Just ten?" he asked, unable to fully mask his annoyance. "Why not eleven? I am sure the extra second will help you-."

Another shot rang out, much more intentional than the last.

The bullet struck Godric in the lower part of his stomach. Other than a curious glance down, the vampire didn't react.

Nevertheless, Francine felt a lot better.

"Why are you here?" she repeated.

Godric ignored her. The tips of his fingers circled the entry wound. They came away soaked with crimson.

"Why are you here, Miss Moxley?"

He asked this softly, refusing her eye contact.

She almost felt jealous of the attention his wound was receiving. Almost.

"I'm keepin' the people upstairs safe from you."

"It is not their safety you should be most concerned about."

Her instinct screamed _PULL THE TRIGGER_ but the commanding look Godric shot her nearly weakened her knees.

"Help me understand," he said, "what's turned you into such a spiteful individual. Your hate...it does not come to you naturally."

"S'pose you know all about human emotions, being a vampire and all. Oh wait, you don't know jack squat."

"I know you better than you know yourself."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

Godric's bloodied hand rose. It hovered above the bridge of his nose before falling down to his side.

"I did not expect speaking to you would be such an exercise in patience."

She couldn't tell whether he was frustrated or amused.

"Well, you're annoying me." She jerked back the trigger, sending another bullet into the vampire's body. Lower abdomen, just under his ribs. "And you won't die!"

"I am sorry my immortality is such an inconvenience for you."

"You tryin' to be funny?"

"You enjoy trying my patience. It reminds me of an unruly child."

"Screw you!"

The next bullet buried itself centimeters from his heart.

Godric peered down, head tilted to the side.

"You have a very precise aim and you are comfortable holding a gun. Why not kill me, like you intended to coming down here?"

Scoffing, Francine shook her head. "You don't know anythin'."

"I am two thous-."

"I don't care!" she interrupted, lowering the gun to her side. "How long you been alive don't equate to bein' smarter."

"No," Godric agreed, stepping forward. "But I would like to think time has allowed me to be more perceptive. You walked down here tonight with the intention of killing me, yes?"

She swallowed, throat suddenly dry. He was right, but she didn't know why admitting to it suddenly felt so uncomfortable.

"I seek to understand why."

"I hate you."

When Godric lowered his head this time around, she got the impression it was to hide his reaction.

 _Am I really feelin' bad for insultin' this bloodsucker?_

"Were it purely hate against my kind, you would not have missed."

Her eyes scanned over the bullet wounds littering his torso.

He was right. Those shots had been fired because he annoyed her, not because she was scared. Not because he tried to harm her. And certainly not because she wanted him dead.

In her heart, she knew she wasn't going to shoot to kill unless he provoked that response out of her. And the only way for him to do that would be to try and harm her.

"It was a request from your first cousin."

She froze. Panic rushed through her veins at a nauseating speed, but she swallowed it back.

Sensing her unease, Godric sighed. "I have no plans to do her harm."

"Why mention her then?"

"Did she ask you to kill me?"

"I don't know." She followed this up with a careless shrug.

"Why do you insist on being so difficult?"

"Why the heck would I make this easy for ya?"

She expected another grimace or broody frown, but Godric perplexed her by smiling.

"You would get along with my progeny well."

"Probably wouldn't."

Godric released a deep sigh. "Until next time, Miss Moxley."

He turned around and without another word, strolled toward a corner of darkness.

"Hey!" she hollered. "I ain't done talkin'!"

Apparently, the vampire was. He allowed the shadows to consume him.

"You're an asshole!" she shouted.

 _Lord, please forgive me for cursin'. This darned vampire just makes me so mad._

Not scared. Not worried for her life. Not threatened. Just mad.

"I'm the nicest guard in this church, by the way," she added, face growing red. "You're gonna miss me."

She didn't know what prompted her to say that. Something about this vampire made her want to have the last word.

The basement was quiet, her echo long since engulfed.

Grumbling under her breath, Francine spun around and trudged toward the stairs.

"If you do not come visit me," he voiced, "I will come to you."

Francine lingered at the bottom of the steps. She inclined her head in his direction.

"Threatenin' me? That's not real smart of ya."

"A promise," he responded. "This is a promise, Miss Moxley. I have endangered my very existence to be this close to you."

"Why?"

It slipped out before she could reel it in. Her heart pounded, unsure what sort of answer she was anticipating.

"Next time," was his only response.

Gritting her teeth, Francine straightened her posture.

"Whatever."

She stomped up the stairs, frustrated and confused. Mostly frustrated.

 _Fat chance I'm ever goin' down there again._

Somehow, she didn't believe herself. And that only frustrated her more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"Is he dead?"

Francine bunched up her thick, auburn hair into one hand and worked on easing it into a loose bun.

"Uhh," she drawled out, staring at herself in the oval mirror, "technically, yes."

" _Fran_."

She avoided glancing at Laurie; sitting expectantly on the bed behind her with arms crossed, watching her carefully through the mirror.

"Um, I shot him a few times, but I'm pretty sure he was healed up by the time I left."

"Damn it!" Laurie sprang to her feet. "There's no way we'll get an opportunity that perfect again."

Though she was against the idea, Francine still voiced it.

"Just tell the Newlins that I want to guard him again."

Shaking her head, Laurie stalked forward. An anger like that of a maleficent storm began brewing on her face.

"The Newlins had no idea you were guarding him. Women aren't allowed that job title." Her jaw clenched. "I paid Jeffrey off tonight so that you could do what we both know has to be done."

Francine hummed under her breath. She didn't know why neutrality all of a sudden seemed so attractive.

"Did the vampire try glamoring you?"

"I don't think so." She leaned forward to study her eyes. "Either way, the contacts worked."

Her cousin nodded firmly. "We'll have to rework our plans."

Hesitating, Francine risked a peek at her.

 _She never used to look that angry._

"You wanna go out tonight?"

As soon as Laurie trained her harsh gaze on her, Francine regretted asking.

"We're not here to "go out"," she spat, approaching her. "Or is it that easy for you to forget why we're here?"

Gritting her teeth, Francine inhaled deeply.

"That's not fair."

"No? Then go home."

Ignoring the tightening in her chest, Francine spun around.

Her first cousin was staring resolutely at the door. Dark bags hung under her eyes like bruises. Every now and again, her teeth would find the open gash in her bottom lip. She chewed on it like a bloody steak.

"I'm not going anywhere until the bloodsucker's dead."

Laurie's nod was as tight as her lips. Francine recognized the look. Out of respect, she headed to the bathroom.

Once inside, she softly closed the door and rested her head against it.

A minute passed before the first muffled sob could be heard. Her cousin may have been approaching thirty years of age, but when she wept, it sounded like she were a young, wounded child all over again.

"Oh Laurie," she whispered, closing her eyes.

 _I have to kill this vampire. It's the only thing that will put her at ease. That will make her feel like we avenged Jo._

She fought back her own guilt. Godric still hadn't given her a reason to kill him. Laurie would say that the fact that he was a vampire was evidence enough, but no matter how much she tried to succumb to this reasoning, it didn't feel natural.

It probably didn't help that she wasn't a naturally violent person. Plus, one of the ten commandments explicitly stated murder was wrong.

 _But what if it's justified?_

That thought sent an uncomfortable shiver down her spine.

 _I never used to think this way. The vampire was right about that._

Francine slumped against the door. Although faint, she could still hear her cousin's crying.

 _This vampire has probably killed thousands in his lifetime. I won't just be avenging Jo. I'll be avenging every family he has ever torn apart._

Her resolve strengthened in light of this consideration.

 _His kindness ain't real. Vampires have an agenda. They will say whatever they can, do whatever they will, to get what they want. They kill us for sport._

Shaking the tension from her shoulders, Francine made a mental declaration to herself. The next time she saw the vampire, she'd shoot first and ask questions later. Even if the questions were ones she was awful curious to ask.

"He deserves to die."

She repeated this to herself until she no longer questioned if he actually did.

X_x_X_x_X_x_X

Two weeks passed since Francine encountered the vampire and neither she nor Laurie had come up with a concrete plan to kill him. Steve had made it evident what purpose the vampire would be used for, so on top of figuring out a way to kill the bloodsucker, they also had to figure out how to flee the Fellowship after they did.

Francine found it equal parts worrying and fascinating. She and the Newlins both wanted the same thing, just in two different ways. Steve wanted to turn his death into a festival and public event; she and Laurie wanted a private, agonizing show. If they succeeded, the Newlins would resent them, even if their goal was accomplished as well.

Just in her interactions with the couple, Francine could tell they weren't very good Christians. Granted, she wasn't an ideal role model herself, but at least she didn't carry as much hate in her that Steve did. She noticed it most often when he preached. The way his eyes would light up; manic and starved. Usually shouting about how unholy vampires were. And though he was careful to never overtly suggest to his parishioners that they should kill a vampire, his loud, enthusiastic attitude and non-discrete loathing of vampires was ignition enough.

There were a few rare times where Francine would get the chance to be alone with her thoughts, and her brain warned her - not for the first time - about how dangerous someone like Steve Newlin was. She'd watched her fair share of documentaries on cults before and the longer she stuck around, the more convinced she was that she and Laurie were part of one.

Sometimes, she considered calling her parents. As rocky as her relationship was with them, they were both very clear, objective people. Godric had claimed to know her better than she knew herself, and he was undoubtedly mistaken. Her parents did.

It was for this reason that Francine didn't allow herself to be alone for too long. She couldn't allow herself to be mentally or physically derailed from this mission. They'd spent nearly two months in this volatile environment, pretending to be more extreme versions of their faith. She may not have been proud to be a Fellowship member, but she was not leaving until the vampire was dead.

X_x_X_x_X_x_X

"There you are!"

Francine quickly brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. She waited until Sarah was within five feet of her before looking up.

 _Does this woman ever have a bad hair day?_

Sarah beamed at her, clasping her hands together.

"Franny, how are you?"

She tried to match her thousand-watt smile without cringing at the nickname.

"Very well, thank you."

"Are you coming back from game night in the hall?"

"Yep. I stayed behind to help Cathy clean up."

"Aw, you're a peach."

Unsure how to respond, Francine settled for a shy shrug.

"I was actually lookin' for your cousin. Do you happen to know where I could find her?"

She reigned in her suspicion with ease. "I don't, unfortunately. I tried to get her to come to the hall, but I think she's a little pooped from earlier today."

"Oh, of course! The poor thing. I know shooting guns ain't for everyone."

 _Actually, Laurie was pretty good at hittin' all the targets. Too good._

"If you see her and she's feelin' better, could you send her my way please?"

"Sure. Might I know what for?"

Rather than answer, Sarah's lips stretched wider.

"Thank you, Franny." Tilting her head to the side, she gave the girl a once over. "Cute outfit. Let me guess..."

When she didn't elaborate, Francine looked down at her clothes. She wore a thick plaid shirt with shades of red and brown, and dark mustard jeans.

"You're inspired by nineteen seventies wallpaper?"

 _Holy cow, do I really dress that bad?_

"It's...unique," Sarah continued, her smile deflating somewhat.

"Thank you."

"I don't entirely know if that's mean to be a compliment, but bless your heart for seeing it that way."

The B word rested on the tip of her tongue, but Francine shooed it away.

Sarah strolled past her, hips rocking back and forth like a rowboat on stormy seas.

 _There's no way she and Steve have a happy marriage._

As bad as she felt for thinking that, she couldn't entirely bring herself to deny it.

Upon entering her bedroom, she sought out her roommate.

"Sarah Newlin is lookin' for ya."

Laurie finished reading the last sentence of her book before resting it on her lap.

"What does she want?"

"She wouldn't tell me, but apparently, I dress like nineteen seventies wallpaper."

Her cousin scowled. "What a bitch."

Francine caught her reflection in the mirror. She re-scanned her clothing.

"I mean...I see it. The room I grew up in kinda looks like my shirt."

"The house in Temple Town?"

"Yeah. You remember it?"

For the first time in a long while, Laurie relaxed.

"'Course I do. It's a shame your parents sold it."

"I choose to see it as a blessing. I never woulda started goin' to church if we never moved to Kentucky."

Shaking her head, Laurie picked up her book.

"I pray for your parents each day. My mom does too. There's still time to repent and accept Jesus as their lord and savior."

"They know. They just don't care."

Laurie tsked and shook her head. "Well, I'd spend as much time with them as possible seein' as their final destination is gonna be a lot toastier than ours."

It wasn't uncommon for Laurie to make these sorta comments, and that was the trouble. Before joining the Fellowship, whatever grievances Laurie and her family had with her parents, they had the decency to keep it to themselves.

Now, she had much less shame about speaking her mind. And she wasn't entirely wrong. Sometimes, she prayed for her parents too.

But she loved them enough to see past their differences, no matter how much self-righteous pity Laurie inflicted on her. If she survived in one piece, she was giving them a call. The last time they'd spoken - a little over a year ago - it ended in a bitter argument that caused her to move a few states away. She wondered if indirectly, joining the Fellowship church wasn't out of some sort of resentment.

"I better go see what the Stepford wife wants."

Knocked loose from her thoughts, Francine began unbuttoning her shirt.

After setting her book down on the nightstand, Laurie studied her. "You know you don't dress like nineteen seventies wallpaper, right?"

"I'm almost tempted to start just so I can annoy her."

"As amusing as that would be to see, we have to continue being on our best behavior. We can't afford to be kicked out of this group."

 _Actually, we can. At this point, I think this vampire is more trouble than he's worth._

She didn't voice this, of course. She didn't know how to feel about that either. So much of what was on her mind lately had to be submerged. It was tough to tell who she had to submerge more from- the Fellowship or Laurie.

"I might be asleep by the time you get back," she redirected, heading to the bathroom.

"That's fine. I'll talk to you in the morning."

Without further comment, she left the room.

Sighing, Francine headed toward the bed instead. Her eyes dropped down to the title of the book Laurie had been reading.

 _The Secret History of Vampires_

From the dusty, beat up condition of the book, she guessed it was one of the more legitimate ones out there.

 _If she ain't careful, I'm gonna have another funeral to attend._

She turned away from the bed and nearly felt her skeleton attempt to eject itself from her body.

"Hello," Godric greeted, leaning casually by the door.

"Uh-"

Her speechlessness made him smile crookedly.

"I keep my promises, Miss Moxley. There is a limit to my patience."

"Go-." She had a difficult time regaining the use of her voice. "Go away. That's the only warning I'm givin' ya."

Godric straightened up and clasped his hands behind him. Like the basement, he radiated composure.

"I am confident you have no desire to kill me."

 _God forgive me. I am a spiteful, spiteful person._

Francine opened her mouth and released the loudest scream her lungs were capable of producing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Her scream lasted three seconds before a weight sent her sailing backwards into a wall. To say the breath had been knocked out of her would be an understatement.

Above her, Godric loomed impassively, the palm of his hand pressed tightly against her mouth. His other hand rested beside her head, effectively keeping her cornered against the wall.

"Was the screaming necessary?" came his low murmur.

Francine attempted a not so kind response, but her words were smothered beneath his cool flesh.

Godric hid his smile. "Point taken."

He inched closer to her. She instantly dug back into the wall, ignoring the frantic race of her heart.

"I am going to remove my hand. If you attempt to scream again, I will not be so kind. Do you understand?"

Her eyes widened.

Godric held back a sigh. Her fear was emanating off her like roadkill beneath a sweltering sun. It was evident he had not yet earned her trust.

"I will never harm you," he repeated, recognizing he needed to be patient with her distrust if he ever planned on reversing it. "However, I cannot promise this of the other Fellowship members."

Slowly, she nodded.

He maintained eye contact with her for a few seconds until her heart beat gradually slowed. Once the stench of fear receded, he lifted his hand off her mouth.

Francine immediately licked her lips. The vampire watched this action with a surprising amount of intensity, causing something foreign to bubble in her chest.

 _He says he's not gonna hurt me._

Doubt clouded this thought, but Francine pushed it back. It was like he'd said the last time they spoke. If he wanted her dead, she would be.

 _If I play along, I can probably get to the gun._

"I had hoped you would come to me," he admitted, retreating far enough to provide her with some much needed breathing room. "I underestimated your fear of me."

"I ain't afraid of you," she bit back.

"Why did you scream?"

She closed her mouth reluctantly. He had her there.

"Can I at least put on a shirt?"

His eyes slid down to her chest before abruptly averting his gaze.

"Of course."

With as much composure as she could muster, Francine sought out her plaid button up discarded on the bed. That Godric actually allowed her privacy instilled mixed feelings in her. Surely he had to know she was gonna go for-

"If you attempt to grab the gun under your bed, the shirt will remain off."

She twirled around, jaw clenched.

"How the hell you plan to enforce that?"

He kept his back to her, eyes focused ahead.

"Grab your weapon and you will find out."

Gritting her teeth, Francine stalked the rest of the way to the bed. Begrudgingly, she picked up her shirt and slipped it on.

"Are you decent?"

"As I'll ever be," she grumbled.

He turned to her, clasping his hands behind him.

In return, Francine crossed her arms.

Strangely, she wasn't entirely afraid. Not as much as she'd been when he'd held her against the wall. Granted, this was far from an ideal situation. She still wasn't fully convinced he wasn't gonna snap out of his politeness and bleed her dry.

But her continued existence, especially when she'd nearly alerted the entire church of his presence, spoke louder than she could tune out.

"What do you want?"

"Why have you not returned to speak with me?"

"Why would I?" she retorted. "I ain't got a death wish."

"How many times must I tell you I have no desire to do you harm?"

She scoffed, shaking her head.

"So you keep sayin'."

"How can I prove to you my intentions?"

She scanned his face with the slightest bit of unease. He appeared extremely genuine.

"You can't."

Godric approached her with measured steps. Francine forced herself not to retreat. Without the safety of her gun, it was a struggle to appear poised and unafraid.

"Would you like to know why I allowed the Fellowship to take me?"

Surprised by the redirection of the conversation, Francine shrugged.

"I don't care."

"You don't?" His brows rose. "You seemed to care a great deal in the basement."

"No I didn't."

"You did."

"Nope."

He tilted his head. "You get enjoyment from testing my restraint."

Francine debated on how to respond. He wasn't entirely wrong.

"I'd enjoy it more if you returned to the basement."

"And rob me the pleasure of your company? You wouldn't be so cruel."

His lazy smile made her realize he was making fun of her.

"You're so lucky I don't have my gun."

"I'm well aware," came his response, one hand absently drifting down to his abdomen.

He paused in his approach towards her. When he failed to say anything further, instead, gazing at her without blinking, she shuffled in place.

"What?"

"I..."He trailed off, searching for the right words. "I am sorry about the suffering inflicted upon your cousin. Had her daughter's murder occurred under my jurisdiction, rest assured I would not have allowed the vampire responsible to live. Children, no matter the circumstance, are innocents."

Francine stared at him, failing to mask her shock.

"How the hell do you know about Joanna?"

"I sought to understand the root of your hate after our last meeting," he answered. "My progeny did further research on your cousin. Though your dislike of me is inconvenient, I cannot blame you for it. Or your cousin's, for that matter. Losing a child is not something I would wish upon anyone."

Rather than placate her, Godric's admission reawoke Francine's anger.

"Like you give a damn!" She edged forward. "All vampires are the same. Y'all tell us you wanna co-exist, but you have no problem hurtin' a small child. She was eight! She didn't do a god damn thing!"

Her hands shook so violently she feared they'd never stop. A terrible, hot anger coursed through her veins.

"She was eight," Francine repeated with a tremble in her throat. "And the vampire didn't care. How...how could I ever believe you don't mean to hurt me when you could do something like that?"

Sucking in a deep breath, she twisted around. The back of her hand wiped at her eyes.

For a minute, all she could hear was the heavy beat of her heart. Repetitive. Consuming. Louder than it'd been in a long, long while.

 _Pull yourself together. He's gonna think you're pathetic._

This thought failed to inspire composure. She no longer cared what he thought.

"Francine."

Her knees nearly buckled from the softness in his voice.

 _Vampires shouldn't be able to sound like that._

Exhaling roughly, she turned to him.

"What?"

Godric's full concentration was on the carpet. His blank expression offered no explanation to his emotional state.

"Pick up your gun."

She frowned, not understanding the command at first.

"Why?"

When he didn't answer, Francine glanced at the bed.

 _Is this a trick?_

His lack of action inspired her to sprint to the bed and crouch down. Only when her hand wrapped around the handle did she finally feel somewhat at ease.

Godric failed to react when she stood. He also failed to react when she aimed the weapon at him again.

"Why the sudden change of heart?" she couldn't help but ask.

Instead of answering, he began approaching her. Though Francine was tempted to shoot, at the last second, curiosity won out. It was like he'd done a full 180 in his attitude. Cautiously and against all logic, she wanted to know why.

The vampire paused directly in front of the shotgun. Calmly, he gripped the neck of the weapon and angled it up until the barrel was aimed directly at his heart.

Her eyes widened.

 _There's no way he's gonna-_

"Shoot me."

His request was firm. He held her gaze without blinking once.

 _He's serious._

Frowning, she looked at the barrel. It was nestled tightly against his chest. His hands remained at his side.

"Why?"

She couldn't believe she was even asking. This was why she was here! To rid the world of a murderer.

Unfortunately, the irony wasn't lost on her that by pulling the trigger, she would become one herself.

"If killing me will ease your family's suffering, then I will allow you to do so."

Her finger stroked the trigger.

"Why?"

He finally blinked. "Vampires are not merciful by nature. If you were aware of my sins against your kind, you would have killed me the first chance you had. I am guilty. I know this."

He looked down at his hands, studying them for a brief moment before glancing up.

"This is justice."

She shook her head, frustrated.

"Why?" she pursued, ignoring the shaking in her hands. "Why do you care enough to let me do this?"

He tilted his head. "Does it matter?"

Francine held her breath, unable to answer.

She closed her eyes instead. Looking at him only amplified her confusion.

 _He's offering to die. This is what Laurie and I want._

Her stomach dropped.

 _This is what Laurie wants._

This revelation pained her to admit, and yet, in the same vein, it was oddly liberating.

Prior to Joanna's death, she hadn't hated vampires and neither had Laurie. They'd both planned on voting to pass the VRA.

After Joanna...

It'd been easy to hate all vampires. It'd been easy to hate, period. Such an easy emotion to lose yourself in. To block out all reasoning other than your own suffering. To be so convinced all vampires deserved the same fate.

With her shotgun pressed to Godric's chest, Francine realized something she'd been reluctant to: she was tired. Tired of being so mindlessly spiteful. Tired of being in such a hateful environment. Tired of convincing herself over and over again that all vampires deserved death for the actions of one. Tired, tired, tired.

And Godric-

She opened her eyes.

 _He doesn't deserve this. He hasn't provoked me. He hasn't tried to harm me. And until he does, I can't kill him. His fate is not mine to determine. It is God's._

Francine's arms dropped as if a weight sank them.

The surprise overtaking the vampire's face only reconfirmed her decision.

With a slow kneel, she placed the gun on the floor. The entire time, she could feel his eyes on her.

Breathing in shakily, she straightened in her spot.

"Godric?"

Her voice was quiet, almost shy. A first since encountering him.

He took a few seconds to answer. "Yes, Francine?"

"Please." Her hands rotated at her sides. She wasn't sure what to do with them. "Please, don't kill me."

Still partially stunned, Godric delicately placed a hand on her shoulder. Disregarding her trepidation, he kept his eyes locked onto hers.

"I promise to never harm you so long as I exist."

Timidly, she broke eye contact, momentarily dizzied by the heavy emotion resting there.

Her shoulders sagged, releasing all the pent up tension previously holding her hostage.

Unbeknownst to Francine, their exchange had been observed. With an expression vacant of all emotion, Laurie slowly retreated back into the hallway and walked away.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"We have another chance."

Francine softly closed her Bible and glanced around. The nearest parishioners were kneeling 12 pews ahead, heads bowed in prayer.

"Another chance?" she asked.

"Yes," Laurie said, scooting closer to her in the pew.

She too gave the area a quick scan. Satisfied with their privacy, she leaned in.

"Jeffrey's been screwin' around with Cathy. He wants to see her tonight."

"Oh." Francine attempted a smile. "That's pretty irresponsible of him."

"He's an awful Christian," Laurie agreed. "But I'll take advantage of it. Tonight, the vampire dies."

Her grip tightened on the Bible.

 _Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap._

"I won't miss this time," Francine promised.

"I'm goin' tonight."

She looked at Laurie, but her cousin was staring straight ahead with nothing short of determination on her face.

"You sure? I don't want the vamp to hurt you."

"Won't get the chance. I'll put a bullet in him first."

Biting her lip, Francine leaned back in the pew.

As her Uncle Cal famously used to say, she was up shit creek without a paddle.

Last night, for better or for worse, she'd spared Godric's life. The vampire hadn't hung around long enough to hound her about why, and for that, she was thankful. Her transition in priorities even had her mildly confused.

But a decision was a decision.

"I'm gonna need you to pack our stuff," Laurie continued. "We gotta slip outta here by morning."

Francine nodded, mind galloping a mile a minute.

"I need to use the bathroom," she decided, setting her Bible down beside her.

"I'll be in the game hall. Sarah needs help setting up for a guest speaker."

"I'll see you there."

Stiffly, Francine exited the pew. Once in the hallway, her short legs quickened until she was safely through a door that connected to an unused wing of the massive church. Sometimes, Gabe stalked this particular hall. She wasn't entirely sure if she and Laurie had high enough clearance to be in the area. She figured it'd be best to be stealthy and never find out.

Tentatively, she inched open the basement door and peered down the stairs. Other than the air conditioning unit chugging away, the area was silent.

 _This is a turning point. If I warn Godric about this, I'm choosing sides._

This thought made her stomach turn. She didn't want to be against Laurie. But dang it, she didn't want to stand idly by while Godric's unjust execution took place!

Once safely at the bottom of the stairs, she peered around. One hand fidgeted beside her. This would be the first meeting between herself and the vampire that didn't include a gun. Maybe she'd been a fool after all. This was exactly what he wanted. To lure her into trusting him.

"Francine?"

She jumped at the voice. Godric slowly wandered out of the shadows, expression mildly puzzled. It made him appear much more boyish and innocent than he had a right looking.

"Can't chat long," she blurted, glancing behind her. "Laurie is plannin' to kill you tonight. I'd suggest ya book it while ya have the chance."

He was unfazed by the information. "I see."

She cocked her head. "Ya see? I just warned you about your impendin' death and all you got to say is 'I see'?"

The corner of Godric's lip quirked up. It was a poor attempt at holding back a smile.

"Are you concerned for me, Miss Moxley?"

Immediately, she crossed her arms. "No."

"No?"

"Nope."

He smoothed out his expression.

"There is no dissuading her?"

"She won't leave this place until you die."

"And you won't abandon her side?"

"She's family."

"What would you have me do, then?"

Her brows scrunched together. "How's that up to me? It's your life at stake."

This seemed to quiet the vampire. Briefly, his gaze trailed off to the stairs behind her.

She shifted from leg to leg, unwilling to leave yet. She wanted to know his game plan.

"Have you heard the term 'Gaul' before, Miss Moxley?"

"Can't say I have," she answered, wondering where he was going with the question. "Sounds like a brand of French underwear."

Godric strode forward, unable to keep back a half smile.

"You are right in guessing the name to be French in origin. Gaul was the name of a region in western and central Europe, long before the modern names you have for countries now. At its height, it was the epicenter of trade between varying tribes during the Iron Age."

"Yours included, I'm guessin'?" Francine asked. "Unless you like givin' random history lessons to young women in church basements."

"Yes," he agreed, "mine included. The tattoos I wear are relics of my tribe and my time as a human."

She'd noticed the ink around his biceps before, but never allowed herself to stare at them for too long. The less she was distracted, the better.

"Everyone in your tribe had them?" she asked, eyes glued to the tattoo peeking from beneath his left shirt sleeve.

"Yes."

She nodded. "Good to know."

"There is a point to all this," he promised. "The tribe I was a part of...we had unusual belief systems compared to others at the time."

"How's that? Weren't y'all mostly pagan and polytheistic?"

Godric tilted his head.

"I'm pleasantly surprised at your knowledge. Modern education in the South tends to ignore a time before Christianity."

Repressing a blush, Francine shrugged. "Thank my parents. They gave me a private education along with the one I got in school."

"Indeed, I am grateful."

She shivered under his heavy gaze. Were his hazel eyes always so dark?

"There was a point," she reminded.

Godric nodded, eyes dropping to the floor.

"My tribe believed in the concept of soulmates."

"That was unusual in that time?"

"No," he agreed, looking up, "not entirely. Greek philosophers were some of the first to suggest humans had another half that could make one whole."

Grimacing, Francine rested a hand on her hip. "See, I don't believe in that."

Godric wasn't able to fully mask his surprise.

"I was under the impression this wasn't an outdated belief."

She barely contained the urge to roll her eyes. "It's a gimmick they use in romance films to keep ya from bein' jaded. At least that's what my Uncle Cal says. And I can't exactly disagree. I feel like it's propaganda to make ya think you're inadequate lest ya fall in love. Who says I can't give myself the same things my "soulmate" supposedly can?"

Her fingers used air quotation marks around the term soulmate. Perhaps her uncle had influenced her thought process a little too much.

"What's wrong?" Francine asked, studying him. "You look like a kicked puppy."

He seemed unsure how to respond.

"Another inconvenience," was all he said.

She arched a brow. "Why's that?"

He stared at her without providing an answer. When she met his stare with her own, he abruptly looked away. She watched his jaw clench and unclench.

"Right," she absorbed. "I gotta skedaddle back upstairs. Laurie's probably wonderin' where I am. Thanks for the history lesson. Please, try not to be down here tonight."

She twisted around and was ready to take the first step up when Godric's voice broke through the silence.

"Francine...when your shoulder brushed mine on the sidewalk, I felt a burning spark set my skin aflame unlike any I ever experienced. Despite its foreignness, I knew immediately what it meant. My tribe referred to this phenomenon as _soslei._ " He peered around the basement uncertainly before firmly resting his gaze on her back. "After Roman occupation of Gaul and our subsequent enslavement, the term was stolen and bastardized into Latin, creating the derivative _sodales_. Translating roughly into soulmates."

Francine's eyes widened.

"It is not a coincidence I am here. You were correct about that." He approached her cautiously. "And while this is not the ideal situation I wished to meet you under, I am willing to be flexible. My progeny, Eric, claims it is a fault. I digress. That you happened to reside so close to me was too convenient of a circumstance not to have acted upon."

When he remained quiet, Francine slowly turned around. She wanted to laugh, but Godric's somber expression stifled the desire.

"You're kiddin'," she said, eyebrows nearly disappearing into her hairline. "You 'xpect me to believe I'm the soulmate of a bloodsuckin' freak of nature?"

Godric considered the question for a second. "In more agreeable terms, yes."

Francine ran a hand through her hair. A tired sigh slipped from her lips.

"Yeah, okay. Good one."

She twisted around and started up the stairs again. Before she could make it halfway up, the basement door creaked open.

Petrified, she watched Gabe's burly form reveal itself from behind the door. A moment later and she was smoothly tugged backwards into a hard body behind her. At a neckbreaking speed, Godric sped into the shadows, one arm tightly wound around Francine's midsection. He huddled her into the corner, caging her in with his body. She wanted to speak, but his cool index finger settled lightly atop her lips. Despite the dim environment, she could practically feel the anchor of his gaze on her. Without saying a word, she nodded.

Godric lifted the finger and turned around. Rolling back his shoulders, he strode forward to meet Gabe's lumbering steps at the bottom of the stairs.

Her heart raced so quickly she momentarily had difficulty breathing.

 _I'm so screwed if he finds me._

"Godric," Gabe greeted, voice booming through the quiet air. "Just you down here?"

She pressed herself harder into the wall.

"Just me," Godric confirmed. "Am I to expect company sometime soon?"

Gabe casually scanned the area.

"No. Nothing like that. Your guard, Jeffrey, has been disposed of, so to speak. Reverend Newlin caught him whoring around with one of the other parishioners. Wanted me to make sure no one wandered down here by accident."

"I've been mostly unbothered," he said. "Thank you for the consideration."

Gabe grunted. "You got more self-control than most of those fangers, I'll give ya that. Shame you're not human. Real damn shame."

Godric didn't reply to this.

"Marcus will be taking over. Treat him like you treat me and there won't be a problem."

"Of course."

Francine slowly regained her breaths as Gabe trudged back up the steps, stairs creaking beneath his weight. Only when the door slammed shut did she find the courage to walk forward. Her right foot smacked against the corner of something solid, propelling her forward. At the last moment, Godric caught her and helped guide her out of the shadows.

The moment she could stand unassisted, she pushed at the arms around her. He let them fall without a fight.

"I-."

She shook her head, hands shaking.

"I have to go."

"Francine-."

"No." Her voice increased in pitch. "You've put me in a hell of a position, Godric. Do you know what'll happen to me if they find out I'm gettin' cozy with you?"

Her heart dropped into her stomach at the possibilities.

"I shoulda never came down here."

She hustled to the stairs. At the last second, she turned to him again.

"We are not soulmates," she stated. "I'm sorry I've lead ya to believe we are. Get the hell outta here while you can. I won't be warnin' you again."

Not waiting for a response, Francine jogged up the stairs.


End file.
